Wednesday, June 03, 2015

The girl has been very interested lately in babies. Specifically in the HAVING of babies. When Louis was a little guy, he learned all the news about the birds and the bees very early because we explained to him the whole process at 19 months old when the twins were born. We kept reinforcing it, telling him the truth and using all the right words like good, modern parents.
This lead to him starting stories with "Remember that time you went to the hospital and the babies came out of your vagina?" But still, he got it and understood it.
Julia has known that she used to live in my tummy, and that every other child in our house used to also. She knows that the twins lived there together and this is what makes them twins. But she's never asked about the HOW until recently.
She asked me a few days ago how she got out of my tummy
I did the good modern parent routine. "Well, most babies like the boys come of out of a mommy's vaginas. But you were in the wrong position, so Mommy had a special operation and the doctor made a cut on my tummy after giving me medicine so it didn't hurt, and they pulled you out foot first."

That seemed to appease. Especially since Louis laughed at the idea of her dangling by her foot, and she seemed to think that was funny too.

But then two days ago, she comes up to me and places her hand on my stomach and looks up at me with teary eyes. "Mommy," she says. "Did it hurt when they cut off your tummy?" And her lip quivers and she's now got tears rolling down her face. "Did you cry?"

It's just different telling this to girls than I had realized. Mainly because, it could happen to THEM so they see it differently. It's not "oh that's an interesting process" it's "OMG that's going to HAPPEN TO ME?" I hadn't thought of it like that until that moment that I saw my own daughter facing the fear of childbirth that I remember well. Childbirth is one of those things that looms for females. Being a mommy is a fantastic game until you realize what you actually have to do to be one. I personally didn't mind it, but I'm awfully damn glad to know I'm not going to do it again, too. But when you haven't done it, it's just damn scary.

I scooped her up onto my lap and kissed her. "Baby they didn't cut off my tummy." And I went back through it, in very easy terms about the operation. I told her some lies, that it wasn't scary, that I didn't cry, I told her some truths, that I would've done it 1000 times to make sure she was born safe and sound, that it was worth every minute because it meant today I have a Julia to love, and that I was so happy when it was over, because I could finally kiss and hug her.

I hiked down my shorts and showed her my little tiny incision (Thank you Dr Doris). She stared at it intently. "How did a baby come out of that?" "You just did! I don't know! But surgeons do amazing stuff and that's how they got you out."

She inspected it and touched it. "Well that's not so bad."

No. It's not so bad little girl. It was worth every single inch of it.